


i got you on my lips

by vlieger



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlieger/pseuds/vlieger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We need to start making out," said Dylan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i got you on my lips

**Author's Note:**

> very slight fourth-wall breaking.

"We need to start making out," said Dylan.

Tyler blinked and paused the game of Mario Kart he was halfway through, putting the controller down and turning to look at Dylan. "What?" he said. "Sorry, say that again, I thought you said we need to start making out."

"Ha ha, dumbass," said Dylan, rolling his eyes and flopping onto the couch next to Tyler. "I'm serious."

"I-- _are_ you serious?" said Tyler, because, well. A lot of the time he wasn't.

" _Yes_ ," said Dylan. "I was on Tumblr last night, right-- "

"-- Oh God-- "

"-- And I realised we have no idea when Jeff's gonna spring Sterek on us, so we need to be prepared."

"That's not-- I mean-- you realise he probably won't, right?"

"Really?" said Dylan, raising an eyebrow.

"Probably," said Tyler. "Maybe. Fuck, I don't know. He might."

"Exactly," said Dylan triumphantly. "And you know part of it will just be to give _us_ shit, so we totally gotta take him down."

"By making out," said Tyler, just to clarify.

"Knew you'd understand, baby," said Dylan, fluttering his lashes.

Tyler rolled his eyes. "I don't," he said. "I mean, even if-- it's just acting, we've done it before."

"This is different," said Dylan. "It's Derek and Stiles, man, come on, that's not, like, normal."

"Are you calling me a freak?" said Tyler. "Gotta, like, build up immunity to me or something?"

"Yeah," said Dylan. "Yes, that's exactly it. You're repulsive, I need to develop a tolerance."

"Oh my God," said Tyler, cracking up.

Dylan grinned back at him, nodding encouragingly. "See?" he said, shuffling closer along the couch. "It'll be fine, come on. It'll be _fun_. Making out is awesome."

"I-- " said Tyler, still smiling sort of uncertainly, and then, oh God, Dylan was pressing his mouth to that smile, soft and sweet, just lingering with the tiniest hint of pressure, waiting for Tyler.

Tyler hesitated a moment, because this was-- this was so exactly and utterly not what he wanted all at once, it was kind of hard to wrap his head around. He wanted Dylan like this, he wanted to know what Dylan's ridiculous mouth felt like, how the sweet, pink bow of his lips manoeuvred a kiss, what it looked like all slicked-up and swollen, but he also wanted it to be _real_ , he wanted Dylan to want _him_ , not just a bit of stupid fun, a way of giving Jeff shit, or prepping for the show.

It was-- that was dumb though, he knew his whole stupid thing for Dylan was dumb and obvious and embarrassing, so this was-- this could be good. This could be fun, and-- and it was better than nothing, right? It was great, being friends with Dylan, and friends did this sometimes, he knew, just for laughs or whatever, so it didn't have to be weird.

Yeah. He lifted a hand to curl around the back of Dylan's neck, drawing him in closer, smoothing his thumb over the short hairs on his nape, and opened his mouth a little.

"There you go," murmured Dylan, grinning into the kiss and tilting his head, getting their legs slotted up and his hands bunched in Tyler's shirt, right over his hips.

Tyler rolled his eyes, because Jesus, he wasn't some skittish animal, even if it felt a little like that, maybe, with the way his heart was thudding bass-beat hard against his ribcage. He lifted his other hand to cup over Dylan's jaw, keep his head angled just right. His palms were damp, itching a little, but he didn't care; it was easy to forget how nervous he felt with Dylan's mouth on his, slick and hot, Dylan's tongue pushing in a little hesitantly, testing.

Tyler made a noise, hand tightening on Dylan's neck, and Dylan took it as the encouragement it was, swiping his tongue more confidently over the roof of Tyler's mouth.

Fuck, it was-- Tyler wanted more already, wanted to push Dylan onto his back and climb over him, press down with his weight, get his hands on more skin. He wanted to know what kind of noises Dylan would make if Tyler sucked hard on his neck, if he traced those stupid moles dotted all over his milky smooth skin with his tongue. He held himself still though, kept his hands where they were, thumbs stroking restlessly, opening up wider to Dylan's tongue, the buzzing feel of his lips, the flutter of his eyelashes as he nudged his nose against Tyler's cheek.

Dylan kissed enthusiastically, with his whole body behind it, like he did most things. It wasn't ungraceful, but it was precise in this very _Dylan_ way, in a way that was a little bit messy, sharp and shifting, curious. _Delicious_. Tyler loved it right away, like he'd loved Dylan almost right away, how it felt like Dylan was so into it, how it felt dirty and brash and sweet all at once, just like Dylan, fucking _perfect_.

He lost track of time a little, tongueing into Dylan's mouth and trying not to make it too obscene, too much like fucking. He opened his eyes once, and Dylan had his closed, thankfully; Tyler took stock of the way he looked like that, the dark crescent of his lashes, the freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose. Dylan pulled back not long after Tyler shut his eyes again, blinking slowly, licking his lips. Tyler tried not to stare too obviously at the plush, pink swell of his mouth.

Or think about how much _more_ filthy it would look after sucking cock. Shit.

"See?" said Dylan after a moment, grinning. "Told you."

"Yeah," said Tyler, a little hoarse.

"We're gonna kick _ass_ at this," said Dylan happily, sprawling back onto the couch. His lips were so _wet_ , and the wide stretch of his legs-- Tyler wanted to touch him all over.

"Sure," he said, swallowing. "Good idea, I guess."

"I am a genius," agreed Dylan, slapping Tyler's thigh. "Cool, okay. I gotta go, but we'll definitely do that again sometime."

He stood, throwing another grin at Tyler before he headed for the door.

"Sure," said Tyler again. "Awesome."

He waited for the click of the front door before he stuck a hand down his pants, groaning.

This could definitely get awkward, potentially, especially if Dylan didn't clear out right after every time. Making out with your buddy was one thing, but popping a _boner_ over making out with your buddy was something else, something Dylan probably wouldn't appreciate so much.

Fuck. He could worry about that later though, when he wasn't already leaking like a teenager into his hand, when he didn't have the picture of Dylan's mouth so fresh in his mind, his own lips still tingling from making out with him. God, Dylan's fucking _mouth_ \-- he closed his eyes and saw it clear as anything, imagined it on his dick, the swell of it stretched around him, delicate and just a touch abused, like over-ripe fruit, bruised and giving beneath the push of an insistent thumb.

He came hard and messy, gasping for air, turning his face into the couch and wondering how long he could do this. How long Dylan would want to do this, which was the same thing.

*

Dylan made it back to the place he was sharing with Posey before he jerked off.

Thankfully Posey was out, although Dylan had the wherewithal to shut himself in his room before he was fumbling his jeans open, shoving everything down around his thighs and leaning back against the door with a hand fisted around his cock, working himself tight and fast.

It was over pathetically fast, too much of Tyler in his mind to make it anything but quick, his stupid fucking _smile_ caught under Dylan's lips, the scrape of his stubble, the hard cut of muscle over his hipbones, under Dylan's hands. It was sad, Dylan was fully aware of this, the way a bit of innocent making out got him so worked up. There hadn't even been any groping to excuse the boner he'd had to drive home with, hyper-aware of it and the road at the same time.

So yeah. The thing was, there was maybe slightly more to this whole situation than he'd let on to Tyler. Like, yeah, it was legit, God knew Jeff liked to fuck with people and he was just as likely to spring that whole plotline on them as not, but it was more-- if he _did_ , Dylan wanted to know how he'd react. Tyler was-- Tyler was disgustingly attractive, Dylan had thought that from the start, and he didn't want to embarrass himself by having to kiss for the first time ever _on camera,_ in front of everyone, and-- and fucking whimper in relief or something. Or pop an awkward boner.

Plus that was-- that wasn't how your first kiss with someone you were crushing on was supposed to go. He maybe just-- just wanted to make out with Tyler, period.

*

Dylan came over again two days later. Posey was with him though, and Holland showed up with Crystal and Colton not long after, so Tyler didn't think there'd be making out this time.

Except, well, Dylan cornered him when he was in the kitchen scrounging for snacks, laughing, eyes bright, and pushed him up against the counter, murmuring, "Practice," and pressing their mouths together, easy and warm.

Tyler sighed and sank into it, holding onto Dylan's hips, opening his mouth and letting himself be kissed for a minute before he pulled back, pushing Dylan away.

"Aw," said Dylan, pouting.

Tyler rolled his eyes. "You wanna explain to everyone?" he said.

Dylan smirked. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe I just wanna make out some more."

"Not now, I'm getting snacks," said Tyler, turning around to open a cupboard at random.

Dylan pressed up against his back though, hands sliding on his waist, and Tyler tensed up.

"Why you gotta be like that, huh?" said Dylan, huffing a laugh, warm and damp on his neck.

"Oh my God," said Tyler, closing his eyes and elbowing Dylan's stomach.

"Ow," said Dylan petulantly, stepping away.

"Later," said Tyler helplessly, looking at him over his shoulder. "Okay?"

"Okay," said Dylan, licking his lips and flicking his eyes to Tyler's mouth.

Tyler bit down on his lip and pressed the heel of his hand into his dick, when he was sure Dylan had left the kitchen. Fuck, this was such a bad idea.

*

Dylan couldn't dredge up a good excuse not to leave with Posey, which sucked, because he kind of wanted to make out with Tyler some more.

He went back the next morning though, when he knew Tyler would be fresh from the gym, sweaty and warm and flushed under his stubble. It was maybe a bit self-sabotaging, but God, he wanted to see that, wanted to kiss him like that, and he might as well milk this thing for all it was worth. Dylan was a big fan of milking things. Especially when this wasn't-- when it could stop anytime. It wasn't the most brilliant cover-story of all time. Tyler would get over it eventually.

Or see through it. He couldn't decide which would be worse.

Tyler answered the door looking gorgeously gym-fresh, and Dylan congratulated himself on his awesome timing, taking in the damp hollow of Tyler's throat, the pink flush staining his cheeks, the way his lips were wet and shiny from the water he was chugging down.

"Hey," he said, blinking at Dylan. His hand flexed around his water bottle.

"Hi," said Dylan. "Wanna make out?" He grinned winningly.

Tyler rolled his eyes, but held the door open and stepped back to let Dylan pass.

"I just got back from the gym," he said, following Dylan into the living room. "I'm all gross, I can shower now, and-- " He stopped abruptly when Dylan pushed him down onto the couch.

"No need," said Dylan cheerfully, climbing onto Tyler's lap.

Tyler swallowed, letting his hands settle on Dylan's hips, and Dylan squirmed a little closer.

"Hi," said Dylan again, nudging in towards Tyler's mouth, throat a little dry.

Tyler's hands flexed over his sides, fingers digging in hard, maybe a little harder than he realised, but Dylan was cool with that, actually. Like, shit, the idea that he'd have marks there later, maybe to press his fingers into when he jerked off, _feel_ it-- he liked it a lot.

"Hi," whispered Tyler, right against Dylan's mouth, and Dylan couldn't help the hurt, desperate noise that escaped him before he kissed him properly, _finally_ , going hot at how pathetic he was, trying to make it as nonchalant as a kiss could be, easy and meaningless.

It was-- it was hotter than that though, slick and sort of obscene, too much, too much of _something_ , Dylan couldn't quite put his finger on it, couldn't gather his thoughts enough while Tyler was kissing him, while his stubble was scratching deliciously, stinging Dylan's cheeks.

Maybe it was the position, the way he was curled over Tyler a little bit, the way Tyler's thick, solid weight was trapped under him, between his spread legs. The way Tyler had his head tilted back just a touch to meet Dylan's mouth. The way he could-- _shit_ , the way if he pressed down just a little he could grind his dick against Tyler's, which was definitely getting interested.

The way it just felt like _sex_.

Tyler's breath hitched, but he didn't stop, meeting Dylan's hips with rolls of his own, and it felt so good, _too_ good, but he couldn't stop, biting into Tyler's mouth messier than they'd done it so far, sloppy and a bit frantic, getting somewhere they probably shouldn't go, somewhere that was more than what this was, or at least what it was _supposed_ to be. Eventually Tyler must have realised this, because he made a noise and shoved Dylan off his lap, breathing hard and flushing a dull red, saying, "Fuck, I-- sorry, that's-- " without meeting Dylan's eyes.

"Hey," said Dylan. "It's okay, come on. Totally normal, see?" He bit down on his lip, but tilted his hips bravely up towards Tyler, showing him how he was hard, too.

Tyler's eyes flicked down to his crotch quickly before he looked away, palming awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Yeah," he said, scrubbing his knuckles over his jaw.

"Cool," said Dylan. "Just need a breather, you know? Wanna play Wii?"

"I-- sure," said Tyler, blinking.

*

Tyler kept shifting uncomfortably as they played Wii, trying to be subtle about the way he also kept glancing over at Dylan. It wasn't awkward, exactly, because this was still _Dylan_ , and if Tyler was going to do this with any of his buddies Dylan was probably a good choice, because he was ridiculously, almost maddeningly easy with his affection, and good at laughing things off, but Tyler still felt weird, like he needed a moment to catch his breath or something.

He wanted to go shower; he was still gross from the gym and itchy from making out with Dylan, still keyed-up and turned on and wanting to get off, but he felt like he couldn't leave now, because Dylan would know _why_ he was leaving, that he needed to hide for a moment, be by himself, and also jerk off.

Dylan glanced at him, after a while, and shifted along the couch to press his knee against Tyler's.

"You need a shower?" he said, smirking. "You're getting ansty."

Tyler smiled guiltily, ducking his head. "Yeah, uh. Feeling kinda gross, the gym, you know?"

"Sure," said Dylan. "Go on. I can let myself out. Thanks for the-- thanks."

Tyler smiled at him, nodding.

*

The next time Dylan saw Tyler, he was drunk. He'd let Posey drag him to some shitty bar, and there was a long disconnect of alcohol between the first drink before he slid into their booth and when he blinked up at Tyler a couple hours later, slow and hazy, and said, "What're you doing here?"

Tyler grinned, slumping down beside him. "Posey texted me," he said. "Hey."

"Hey," said Dylan belatedly. "Want a beer, dude?"

Tyler waved a bottle in his face. "Got one," he said. "How drunk are you?"

"On a scale of one to shitfaced," said Dylan thoughtfully, tilting his head, "Maybe a seven?"

"Impressive," said Tyler, shaking his head and laughing.

Shit, he had a nice laugh. "You have a nice laugh," said Dylan.

"Uh," said Tyler. "Thanks." He smiled, eyes creasing up.

It was definitely still a dumb idea that was going to come back to bite him eventually, but right then Dylan was just really glad he'd made it so they could make out now. Like, he just really wanted to kiss Tyler's stupid attractive face. A lot. "Hey," he said. "Hey, wanna practice?"

Tyler stared at him, mouth open. "Posey's here," he said. "We're in public."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "'Kay," he said, scrambling awkwardly over Tyler to get out of the booth. "Get yourself a shot and meet me outside. Know you wanna." He grinned, licking his lips.

Tyler just stared at him some more, and kept staring as Dylan walked towards the smoker's exit.

It was cold outside, the air stinging his cheeks, sobering, and Dylan blinked a little less hazily as he leaned against the wall and waited. He wasn't even sure Tyler would come; it _was_ kind of risky, and definitely dumb. But well, this whole thing was dumb, in all honestly.

At least he was boozed-up enough not to be embarrassed by how blatant he'd been. Like, they didn't really-- it wasn't this kind of thing, something they did when they were out and there were other people around to make out with. Maybe Tyler actually wanted to pick up, which made Dylan feel weird and sick in a way he didn't want to think too hard about right now.

So he was into Tyler, whatever. He'd dealt with that freakout already, now he could just-- just enjoy getting to make out with him. That was what you did when you were drunk.

And when you were idiotically convoluted about dealing with feelings, but...again, whatever.

Tyler came out a couple minutes later, and Dylan let out a breath, straightening.

"Hey," he said, grinning.

Tyler sighed, smiling back kind of helplessly, and stepped forward to press Dylan into the wall, trapping him there with his body, which felt awesome. Like fuck, he had _muscles_.

"Mmm," said Dylan, tipping his face up. "You're warm. 'S good. I'm cold."

Tyler didn't answer, just met his tilted up face and licked into his mouth, slow and alcohol-sweet.

"Huh," mumbled Dylan. "You got that shot."

"Needed it," said Tyler. "This is kinda stupid."

"Definitely," agreed Dylan, pressing into his mouth so he couldn't talk anymore.

Tyler groaned and brought his hands up to cage Dylan's face, huge and rough and warm, and Dylan slid his palms around to Tyler's back, and it was _awesome_ , slow and heated, wet noises that were so loud and dirty in Dylan's ears. It was lots of tongue, the occasional sting of Tyler's teeth on his bottom lip and Tyler's stubble burning him up.

"Fuck," said Tyler, shifting away to kiss the corner of Dylan's mouth, tease it with his tongue.

Dylan hummed and slid one hand up to clutch his hair, angling him back for a proper kiss.

"Think we're getting pretty good at this," he breathed, as Tyler got a steadying leg between his.

"Yeah," agreed Tyler, sucking on his bottom lip. Dylan groaned, tugging the ends of his hair.

"You're really good at this," said Dylan, pushing his tongue deeper into Tyler's mouth, closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of Tyler's fingertips pressing into the soft part of his cheeks.

"You're really drunk," said Tyler, huffing a little laugh and biting Dylan's chin, which should not have been as hot as it was.

"Mmm," agreed Dylan. "Come back here."

Tyler laughed again and did, letting Dylan kiss the shit out of him, getting a bit faster, drawing out more noises, delicious little half-groans that were getting Dylan seriously hard.

Tyler must've felt it, which-- yeah, okay, maybe Dylan was grinding on him a little, but who could blame him, really-- except it made Tyler pull away, breathless and grinning.

"We should stop," he said. "Still in public."

"I guess," said Dylan reluctantly, tipping his head back against the wall and sighing.

Tyler groaned and pressed close again to get his mouth on Dylan's neck, not sucking or anything, which Dylan kind of wished he would, but just open and wet.

It was still really nice. Dylan didn't really want to go anywhere; didn't want to _stop_.

"Posey's probably wondering where we are," mumbled Tyler.

"Posey's probably forgotten he even came here with us," said Dylan.

Tyler laughed and didn't disagree, but he still stepped away again.

"Come on," he said, grabbing Dylan's wrist and tugging him off the wall. 'I'll buy you a drink."

"Such a gentleman," said Dylan, stumbling after him, back into the bar.

"Nah," said Tyler. "If I was a gentleman I would've bought you a drink _first_."

"Still counts," said Dylan, leaning into his side as they got to the bar.

"Yeah," said Tyler quietly. Dylan closed his eyes and let the alcohol well up behind his lids, dizzying and awesome, muffling any weird aches that might otherwise take over his chest.

*

Dylan found Tyler on the beach in front of his condo the next afternoon, standing with his ankles in the waves and his head tipped back, eyes closed, stretching out in the sun.

It felt amazing; he still wasn't over how awesome this place was.

He startled when Dylan brushed a hand over the bare curve of his shoulder and said, "Hey."

"Hey," said Tyler, blinking his eyes open. "You look like shit," he added, taking Dylan in, the slightly red-rimmed eyes and the still sleep-mussed hair, pillow-creases on his cheeks.

He must've come straight here after waking up, which was...a really nice thought, actually.

"Ugh, shut up," said Dylan, scrubbing his hands over his face. "Not all of us are walking Armani advertisements. It's called being, you know, _human_."

"Armani?" said Tyler, raising an eyebrow and trying not to laugh.

"Shut up," said Dylan again, but he grinned, kicking Tyler's ankle.

Tyler kicked him back, then said, "So how are you feeling? I did tell you not to have those last, like, four drinks."

Dylan made a face, groaning. "I don't wanna think about it," he said. "Or I _will_ puke. Again. Thank God you bought the property market's answer for a hangover cure, is all I'm saying."

Tyler snorted. "Oh, is that why you're here? Yeah, my real estate choices were directly influenced by how hard my friends party." He rolled his eyes, huffing a laugh.

Dylan pointed at him. "Hey," he said, "On a good day you're never at the beach later than ten in the morning, or earlier than seven at night. It is now two in the afternoon, so don't lie to me, Mr. It-Can't-Get-You-Drunk-If-It's-Not-A-Shot. If I ever see a coconut again I'ma punch it in the face."

Tyler cracked up, because God, Dylan was _ridiculous,_ he loved him kind of a lot, and it made him hot all over, too, the way Dylan just knew him so well, knew his routine by heart.

"Fuck," he said, still grinning like crazy. "Yeah, okay. I felt pretty shitty when I woke up. Guess I just have a better metabolism than you."

"Not gonna argue with you there, buddy," said Dylan, looking him up and down and rolling his eyes. "Ow," he added belatedly, pressing at his temples.

He shuffled forward, further into the waves, sighing as the cool, sun-touched water sluiced over his skin. Tyler stayed where he was and watched him, not trusting himself to keep his hands off.

"Hey," said Dylan, turning around to look at him. He was in up to his waist, little droplets of water stealing up over his chest, and his eyes creased up as he smiled. "Coming in?"

Tyler opened his mouth, hands clenching, and fuck, fuck it, he shoved his way through the waves and caught Dylan's stupid face between his hands, kissing him hard.

"Oh," mumbled Dylan against his mouth, hands slipping on Tyler's hips, "That wasn't what I meant, but-- mmph, okay, this is cool."

Tyler closed his eyes, biting down on Dylan's soft bottom lip. He tasted like coffee and toothpaste and just a little bit of salt, and his mouth was eager and wet against Tyler's.

There was so much skin this time too, their bare chests pressed together. Tyler's nipples felt over-sensitive, rubbing against Dylan's skin, and he kind of wished they weren't in the water, on the fucking _beach_ , so he could get Dylan flat and press him _down_ , get more friction.

Except, well, that wasn't what they did, this was just-- just making out, even if Tyler did want more, even if it was the dumbest fucking thing in the world because he couldn't-- he couldn't _help_ it, Dylan made him crazy, always had, and he should never have agreed to this.

"Hey," mumbled Dylan, and Tyler blinked, refocusing. "Hey, big guy, come on." He pulled away, licking his lips, still grinning, and added, "And you thought _I_ was being risky, wanting to make out in a dark alley where everyone was too drunk to recognise us, or didn't give a shit."

"I-- yeah," said Tyler stupidly, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Fuck, sorry."

"'S cool," said Dylan, shaking his head. "Maybe Jeff will have us do a beach scene, right?"

"Right," said Tyler. Right. Because this was nothing, just-- just practice.

Dylan watched him carefully for a moment, and said, "Okay?"

"Yeah," said Tyler. "Sorry, just-- still hungover, I guess."

Dylan snorted. "Awesome metabolism, my ass."

"Hey." Tyler reached out to grab his shoulder, and Dylan looked at him, tipping his head up like-- like he was expecting-- and Tyler's chest clenched painfully, his hand tightening, digging into Dylan's flesh, before he wrenched himself out of it and shoved Dylan down, dunking him.

Dylan came up gasping, spluttering, spitting out water, and shouted, as Tyler darted away, "Fuck you so hard, oh my God, revenge is mine, at a later, not-so-hungover date."

Tyler burst out laughing, and so did Dylan, after a moment, and it was...it was good.

He breathed out, and thought about how good it was being friends with Dylan, and it was-- he could do this. He couldn't not, in the end. It was _Dylan_ , and Tyler was so easy for him.

*

Dylan sighed to himself as he drove home. He could admit, in the safety of his empty car, that this was probably getting a bit out of control. He hadn't meant for it to be a thing they did every time they saw each other, when it started out. Although really, he didn't know what he _had_ meant.

Just that he wanted to kiss Tyler, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Or okay, not a _good_ idea, but one of those patently dumb Dylan ideas that would probably fly just because it was _him_ , and Tyler knew him and generally went along with most of his stupid shit.

Fuck. In all honesty that should've been reason enough _not_ to do it, but Dylan was an idiot like that, he was self-aware enough to admit it, and he was an even bigger idiot about Tyler.

He did this a _lot_ , starting things for fun and getting in way over his head.

Not so much lately, but that just meant he should've seen this coming.

The problem was his _feelings_. Just-- ugh, he shouldn't have gone poking at something that...that _meant_ something, even though that was also a thing he did, and it'd fucked him over with people before.

He just-- he wished he hadn't this time, because he _liked_ Tyler, he liked him a _lot_ , and he had no idea what to do now, where to take this, where they were supposed to go.

Being the class clown was awesome and all, it got you lots of friends, but sometimes you needed to be serious about things, and clearly Dylan hadn't mastered that at all.

"Fuck," he said, as he let himself into the apartment. "Fuck, Posey, I'm a fucking dumbass."

"Totally," agreed Posey from the couch, raising a fist. "Uh, why though?"

Dylan sighed, flopping down beside him. "It's too dumb to say out loud."

Posey put the X-Box controller down and squinted at him. "Something's up," he announced, which, Dylan rolled his eyes, _obviously_. "Spill."

Dylan let out a long breath and mumbled, "Don't wanna."

" _Spill_ , bitch," said Posey, socking him in the face with a cushion.

"Ow, asshole!" said Dylan, and, when Posey brandished the cushion again threateningly, "Okay, okay, so I-- I may have tricked Hoechlin into doing this thing where we-- we make out now?"

Posey blinked at him, cushion still held aloft. "What?" he said. And then, "But oh my God, I _knew_ I could smell making out on you!" He sniffed, like that proved anything, the freak.

"That is creepy and impossible," said Dylan firmly. "Anyway, so I-- I told him we should practice making out in case Jeff tries to spring Sterek on us, and he went with it, and now I can't-- ugh."

He scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning.

"Dude," said Posey, after a silence.

" _Dude_ ," said Dylan, after another long silence, "What?"

"That's sort of-- it's cute and all, but aren't you like, lying to him? I know you wanna hit that, man. Like, for real hit that. Like, hit that and then date that."

"I know!" shouted Dylan guiltily, waving his hands like a spazz. "But I don't know what to do! I can't exactly-- we can't just stop now, or-- can we? But I don't want to. Fuck."

"Maybe you should _tell_ him," said Posey. "Like, I'm pretty sure he's okay with making out with you. Dude's got some crazy hearts in his eyes over you, you know?"

Dylan scrubbed both his hands through his hair. "I-- maybe," he said. "Fuck, what if he's pissed though? He _should_ be pissed. Oh my God, this was such a dumb idea. Why didn't you stop me?"

Posey hit him with the cushion again and said, "I'm not _psychic_ , you freak."

"It would be really awesome for me if you were," said Dylan, sighing.

*

Tyler was crashed out on his couch a couple days later, watching shitty TV and eating shitty candy his trainer would kill him over if he found out, when Dylan marched in.

Tyler hadn't actually made copies of his keys for any of his friends, but that was only because most of them had just gone and done it themselves anyway.

He startled, shoving the candy guiltily under a cushion, which made Dylan snort.

"I'm onto you, loser," he said, taking a seat next to Tyler. "And also I'm not your trainer, so quit looking so guilty. It's nice to know you're actually human, you know?"

He pulled the candy out and popped a couple in his mouth.

"It's not weird," said Tyler, snatching the candy back.

Dylan laughed, his stupid full-bodied laugh, head tipped back and mouth open, and Tyler stared like a moron for a moment, sucker-punched by the long, gorgeous line of his body, before grabbing him around the back of the neck and reeling him in for a kiss.

Dylan huffed, still grinning, and mumbled, "Mmm, candy," against his lips, shuffling closer.

Tyler laughed, rolling his eyes, and tugged on the ends of Dylan's hair, tightening his hold a little, holding him in place and kissing him as thoroughly as he knew how.

It was-- fuck, it was so _easy_ , and he felt guilty for taking advantage of Dylan like this, of Dylan just wanting to be prepared for their roles or whatever, but it felt so good, _too_ good, like-- just not bad enough for him to _stop_. Plus it was still-- it was still just making out, which was what Dylan wanted, so if Tyler could just keep his dumb feelings under wraps it didn't have to freak Dylan out or anything. They could just stop as soon as filming started, maybe.

Shit. He'd never wanted filming to start less in his life.

*

Dylan let himself be kissed, let himself kiss _back,_ without even thinking, like it was just-- it was already so normal to be doing this, so fucking easy it was ridiculous.

But-- no, okay, fuck. He groaned, wrenching himself away and putting some distance back between them, because he didn't come here to keep lying to Tyler, he came here to own up.

Tyler blinked at him, and Dylan looked away.

"Okay," he said. "Um. So-- so I lied."

"What?" said Tyler, frowning.

Dylan shifted guiltily. "I-- I didn't think we should make out just in case Jeff springs Sterek on us, I kind of just-- wanted to make out? Even though it was sort of legit in that I, uh, I wanted to make sure if he _did_ actually do it I wouldn't, uh-- you know, I'd have some clue how I was gonna react, 'cause I've kind of wanted to kiss you for ages and that's not-- that's not how I wanted it to happen. So yeah. I'm sorry I conned you into making out with me. That's not cool, I just." He trailed off miserably, palming the back of his neck.

When he chanced a glance over Tyler was staring at him, mouth open and brow furrowed. "I-- okay. Why the confession now?" he said eventually.

Dylan sighed. "Posey told me I was being deceitful," he said. "And I-- he's right, it's not fair, I don't wanna lie to you, man. I just think you're awesome."

"Oh," said Tyler slowly. And, after a moment, quietly, flushing, "I think you're awesome too, you know."

Dylan snapped his head up, looking at him carefully. "Awesome in a...a you're not angry at me kinda way?"

"Yeah," said Tyler, and Dylan's chest loosened immeasurably. He kept going though, and added, "Also...also awesome in an I've been wanting to make out with you too way."

Dylan stared at him. "I-- shit, really?" he said, clenching his hands in the cushions, something like hope and happiness unfurling low in his belly.

Tyler rolled his eyes, grinning self-deprecatingly. "Come on, you can't not know."

Dylan shrugged, biting down on his lip. "I can't... _know_ either."

"Well," said Tyler, smiling slowly, "You do now."

"Yeah," said Dylan stupidly, grinning.

Tyler grinned back, wide and bright, and said, "So we should make out some more."

"Yeah," said Dylan, blinking and jerking forward to scramble awkwardly into Tyler's lap to do just that, _fuck_ , why were they still even _talking_. He stopped when their lips were almost touching though, which made Tyler groan, which was _awesome_ , and said, "We could also, like-- maybe take it up a step? Like actually get off? Because dude, you have no idea how much I've been jerking off over this, I thought I was gonna break my dick. I've been going _crazy_."

Tyler huffed a laugh, tilting his head forward so their lips were brushing, and murmured, "Oh yeah?"

Dylan swallowed, throat suddenly dry, because _fuck_ , Tyler was so hot it was ridiculous, and his voice was low and gravel-hoarse. "Yeah," he breathed.

"You should show me," said Tyler, still in that same voice.

"You should _help_ me," said Dylan, clutching the sides of his neck.

"How about we do both?" said Tyler, grinning.

Dylan grinned back, slotting their mouths together, warm and easy. "I guess that would work," he said.


End file.
